Tell Me What To Do
by ScarlettSunshine
Summary: "What did you think this was?" she asked. "Last night." He pulled a hand through his hair. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I've never done this before. I just thought...you'd stick around, we'd talk about it, maybe go to breakfast together." She looked at him curiously. "By 'this' you mean a one night stand?" He shook his head. "I've never done this before," he repeated.


**A/N: So, I have _never_ written Jily like this, but I thought I'd try it out, play around with characterizations a bit. Let me know how I did. **

**Disclaimer: All belongs to J. K. Rowling, though I don't know if she'd want this. **

Where was that damn shoe? Lily surveyed the room once more, tiptoeing over to his trunk and lifting his discarded shirt. No shoe. Great.

Holding the one shoe she did have in one hand, her tie and socks in the other, Lily got down on all fours and began crawling about, making as little noise as possible while she searched for her missing shoe to no avail. She went to peek under the bed when something swung down from above and hit her on the back of the head, causing her to knock her forehead on the bed frame. "Fucking hell," she hissed.

There was a grumble from above, and she realized it had been a hand that had hit her, a hand attached to a sleeping boy. Or, at least, he had been sleeping. As she looked up, he was peering down at her over the edge of the bed, reaching for his glasses. "Sorry," he mumbled, his voice was rough and low with the remnants of sleep, and she tried to push the comparisons to how he'd sounded last night out of her mind. He seemed to take in the situation, raising an eyebrow. "What're you doing down there?"

"Can't find my shoe," she muttered.

"You need your shoe right now?" he asked. "It's only five o'clock. Still early. Come back to bed. We'll find your shoe later."

Lily stood up, watched his eyes travel the length of her, the picture clear as day from behind his round glasses. Her half zipped skirt, hastily tucked in shirt, bare feet, finger-combed hair, all other belongings in hand. "Oh," he said. "You're, er, leaving."

"Yeah," she said awkwardly, looking anywhere but at him. "I just figured your mates would be around soon, and, well, the girls will worry...wonder where I've been...so it'd be best—"

"My mates won't come in until well after breakfast," he told her. "We have a ten o'clock rule. They know I had...company."

"Well, my bed's empty," Lily said, "so, I don't want my friends to—"

"Alice knows where you are," he interrupted. "Surely Frank told her."

Lily rubbed at her temples. "Look, I should just go," she said finally. "Alright?"

"No," he said. "Not alright. Stay." He flipped the covers down for her. "Please," he implored. She didn't move any closer. "Come on, Lily," he said, "don't tell me you're the kind of girl to shag a bloke and sneak out before dawn. You're not."

He could see her temper begin to flare even before she opened her mouth. "What do you know?" she asked. "And what kind of girl is that anyway, because yesterday I wasn't the kind of girl to shag just anybody either, but apparently today, I am."

It certainly stung. He laughed, a puff of air both humourless and dry. "And I'm just anybody to you?" he asked.

Her eyes flicked down and her cheeks heated, and for a second he thought she was going to apologize, but then instead, "Oh, come on, Potter, some days we aren't even friends."

He was wide awake now, sitting up with the blankets puddled about his naked waist. "It felt pretty friendly last night."

Her jaw set. "I—you—don't even—just—"

"There an end to that sentence there, Evans?" he taunted.

She took a deep breath, composed herself, fixed her stare with his. "This was a mistake."

She wasn't sure what he would say to that; in fact, she was hoping he wouldn't say anything, and, for a second, it seemed he had nothing to retort, so she turned on her heel and headed for the door.

"Screw you, Evans."

She froze, her blood boiling, then she spun around and threw the one shoe she did have right at his head. "Congratulations, you already did," she snapped.

And he laughed. For real this time. Actual laughter, tinged with his own anger, as he picked up her dodged shoe and tossed it off the side of his bed. "You're _insane_," he said. "Fine, go if you want. But don't be pissed at me, alright? I'm not the one leaving. I'm not the one calling this a bloody mistake. If anyone's getting screwed here, it's me."

"_Excuse me_?" she demanded.

"I'm just trying to figure out what I did wrong!" he exclaimed. "Was I crap at it? Is that it? Or is it because you don't want people knowing you slept with me? Or...did I...I don't know. I don't know what the hell I'm doing," he muttered. "Whatever. Fine. Go."

She paused. "What did you _think_ this was?" she asked. "Last night."

He pulled a hand through his hair, mussing it even further. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I've never done this before. I just thought...you'd stick around, we'd talk about it, maybe go to breakfast together."

She looked at him curiously. "By 'this' you mean a one night stand?" she said.

He shook his head. "I've never done this before," he repeated.

She closed her eyes, letting out a sigh. Her gut twisted with guilt, emotions flashing through her like sparks. "Never?" she asked, swallowing hard.

"Never," he confirmed. She watched as his cheeks reddened. "Not that I haven't done _anything_ before," he emphasized. "I've done...plenty. Just haven't...before last night."

She turned away from him, paused, then turned once more. "Merlin," she said. "Okay." And then she was unzipping her skirt, unbuttoning her shirt, dropping her things and walking back over to him.

He stared.

"Close your mouth, Potter," she said, climbing back into his small bed, clad in only her bra and knickers again. "Let's just go back to sleep, okay?" She lay on her back, stiff and uncomfortable.

"Well, I can't sleep now," he told her. "What's all this about? You don't have to stay here just because I was a virgin last night. I mean, I'd like it if you did, but—"

"I know I don't have to, James. Just shut up and go back to sleep." She rolled on her side away from him and shut her eyes.

"I can't sleep," he said again. "Explain yourself."

She sighed, wrapped her arms about herself. "I know what it feels like to wake up alone," she murmured. "I've decided I won't do that to you. Okay?"

"So this is out of pity," he considered. "I think I'm okay with that."

"Good," she said. "Sleep."

"So, I take it _you_ weren't a virgin last night," he continued.

"And I take it you don't know what's good for you if you won't shut up and sleep," she countered.

"Were you?" he pressed.

She rolled her eyes. "No," she replied, before adding,"not that you asked."

"Sorry." He did sound sheepish. "I sort of figured. You...you seemed to know what you were doing."

Well, she supposed that much was true. She had been pretty sure of herself last night. Surely pissed off at her friends for cancelling their Friday night plans with her to snog their boyfriends, at her professors for 'expecting better of her' because of a couple of Es instead of Os, at Nathan for writing her some bogus letter about how '_what they'd had over the summer was fun, but she was still too young and naive_' and whatever else bullshit she hadn't read further. She hadn't been '_too young and naive_' when he'd taken her to his shoddy little flat and left a note asking her to let herself out in the morning. So she was sure she owed herself a night of fun. And there was James Potter and his friends, always bragging about how much fun they had doing Godric knows what. And he was looking at her like he was genuinely concerned about her. Asked her if she was alright like he wanted to help. So, for once, she accepted. And she was surely out of her mind when she did.

"James," she said. "Please. I'm staying. You won. Do we have to talk about this?"

He ignored this. "How was I?" he asked.

"Shut. Up."

"It's purely for future reference," he explained. "You'd really be helping me out."

She shrugged beneath the covers. "It was...fine," she said.

"_Fine_?" he echoed. "Just _fine_?"

"It was your first time," she told him, rolling over to face him. "First times are always awkward and messy and fumbly."

"That isn't a word," he grumbled. "And you didn't know it was my first time last night. So, what, you just thought I was crap?"

"Pardon me for thinking you wanted to hear the truth," she said. "Next time I'll lie."

He seemed to jump at this. "Is there going to be a next time?" he asked.

"Potter."

He wisely switched topics. "What about last night?" he questioned. "Were you lying then? Because it seemed like you were enjoying it."

"I was," she said.

"_Now_ you're lying to me."

"No," she said. "It was great until...well, until we got to the actual sex bit. Then it was just...fine."

He nodded, absorbing this. "So, where did I go wrong?"

"You want me to give you pointers?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah."

"No."

"Why not?" he asked. "How am I supposed to get better unless someone _tells_ me?"

She let out an exasperated breath, thinking back on the night before. Maybe it was a little better than fine, she thought, it had been kind of nice. Sure, the sex itself didn't do much for her, nor last long, though that all made perfect sense now, but in those moments before, when he'd asked if she was sure, if she wanted this, when he offered to slow down, when he said he hadn't meant it to go so far, as though he'd been the one to start it, when he said he'd be happy if they could just kiss some more maybe...she wasn't sure if he meant any of that whole heartedly but it was nice nonetheless. She knew if she hadn't told him to shut up, if she had said a simple 'no', or 'stop', or even 'slow down', he would have immediately. The boy kissed like sin, but he touched like a gentleman. And when he told her she was beautiful, she would have laughed but for the way he looked at her.

Her heart lurched again at the memory.

"Lily?" he asked.

"Okay," she agreed, forgetting entirely what he'd been saying.

"Okay. I'm listening. What did I do wrong?"

Oh, right, she thought. She didn't particularly want to criticize him anymore. "Well, you're really good at kissing," she said finally.

He grinned. "So I've heard."

She rolled her eyes. "Potter."

"Okay. Listening."

"The kissing's good," she said again. "And you were smooth with getting me out of my top and bra...and the touching was good." His grin only widened. "It was when you actually got into my pants that things went awry." The grin was gone."You...don't really know your way around there so well." She glanced at his expression and was glad to see he wasn't hurt at all.

"Well...yeah," he said, obviously, blushing a bit, "I've never quite _gotten_ there before." She kind of liked the way he blushed; it wasn't something she could recall seeing much before. Sort of endearing.

She shrugged. "You wanted to know," she said.

"That doesn't help me though," he persisted. "What am I supposed to _do_?"

"Potter, I'm not drawing you a diagram," she said tiredly.

"Then show me," he said. "Teach me."

"Excuse me?"

"We've already done it once," he pointed out. "Let me try again. Tell me what to do."

"Potter!"

"James," he corrected.

She gave him an unamused look.

"Come on," he coaxed. "Tell me what to do. You're bossy during everything else. Boss me around. Tell me how to get you there."

"You're not very convincing," she said dryly.

He thought about this. "Okay," he said. "Think about it like this: this is one mistake. Until you walk out that door, this counts as one incident. If you say no, you leave with '_fine_' sex and nothing else. If you say yes, if you let me do this, you leave feeling _satisfied. _At least you'll get something out of this."

She debated this, and he watched her anxiously.

"Okay," she agreed. "Fine."

"Really?"

"Yes, Potter, really."

"You'll tell me what to do?" he asked eagerly.

She nodded.

"Okay."

He rolled to hold himself above her, staring down with a grin as her breath caught at the sudden movement. "You can start by kissing me," she said, removing his glasses and placing them aside.

He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, gently at first, then again, slowly deepening the kiss until his tongue swiped her bottom lip, her lips parted for him, and his tongue met hers in the softest of hellos. He pulled back, smirking as her lips remained parted and awaiting, before moving in again, and this time there wasn't anything soft about it. He caught her mouth with intent, his thumb stroking the underside of her jaw, lips taking the kiss from her own while his hand ran feather-light up and down her naked side. He didn't seem terribly nervous. All she felt from him was confidence, and resulting tingles, and against her will, her heart sped up, and her hands itched to touch him back. Her fingers slid in his messy locks, tried to draw him closer. She shifted beneath him, and he groaned, fingertips pressing into her hip, and hips pressing against her thigh. She smiled, and he pulled away once more, drawing her bottom lip gently between his teeth as he went.

"See, that was," she began.

"I know," he said. "Sweet Merlin." He began blazing a trail of kisses along her jaw, down the column of her neck, stopping to nip at her collarbone, press kisses to the hollow spaces there, and then he continued to her breasts, reaching around her to impressively pop the clasp on her bra. It wasn't hard to tell what he _had _done before. She did the work of slipping her arms out for him, and he tossed the obstacle aside.

"So soft," he muttered, one hand propping himself up so he could get a good look at her, a chance he hadn't had in the dark of the previous night, and the other skimming down her waist, across her tummy, and up to trace the underside of each breast. She shivered beneath him. Her chest was small, at least in her opinion, proportionate to the rest of her, but the way he looked at her, it seemed he thought they were glorious. He cupped and took the weight in his hand, massaged gently, teased the tip with light brushes of his thumb until it peaked, did the same with the other. She arched into his touch.

"How am I doing?" he asked.

"Good," she breathed. "But, stop staring, please."

"Right," he agreed, bending to pepper kisses across her chest. She laughed.

"What?" he asked.

"Tickles," she said.

"Your chest is ticklish?" he said in disbelief.

"A little bit," she said, "when you do that."

His eyes glinted. "How 'bout this?" He pressed a kiss to the centre of her chest, right between her breasts. She shook her head. "This?" Flicked his tongue over her nipple.

"No," she sighed out.

"Mmm." His lips travelled lower and he slid down. Kissed her navel as his hand slipped between her legs. "That?" Her hips rose to meet his hand and he watched curiously. He kissed each hipbone half-hidden by her knickers, feeling the warmth radiate from her. "Can I?" he asked, fingering the elastic at her hips. She lifted up and he slid the black cotton down her thighs, she wriggled out of them the rest of the way.

She tried to pull him back up to her by the back of his neck, but he stayed knelt at her feet, her legs bent and knees together. He took hold of each ankle. "I want to see what I'm doing," he said.

She shook her head.

"I'm not even wearing my glasses," he offered.

"Potter," she warned.

"James," he corrected gently. "I haven't got anything to compare to. Please?" He pulled her ankle so her leg extended, and she let him. "Yes?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, turning red enough to match her hair, biting her lip, and watching for any sort of reaction as her heart tried to pound its way out of her chest. Nobody, not Nathan, not anyone, not even herself in all honesty, had ever quite seen there before.

He pulled the other ankle out and then apart just a bit. Sat between her open legs, swiped a finger through her folds. "Oh," she moaned, as his fingertip brushed her bundle of nerves. She glanced down to see how tented his pants had become.

He swallowed hard. "Tell me what to do," he said.

"Touch me there again," she told him instantly.

He repeated the motion and she caught his wrist as he reached her bud. "_There_," she said.

He traced a circle experimentally, and her hips rolled up. "Yeah," she breathed, "like that."

Her eyes closed as he continued, head tipped back and senses on the fritz, forgetting whatever view he might have and giving herself over to the sensations. The blissful, pleasurable, warming feeling collecting low in her belly. Then suddenly her hips jerked as it wasn't just his hand anymore, and James sat up in surprise. He licked his lips. "Like that?" he asked, eyebrows raised, self-satisfied smirk uncontainable.

"Fast learner," she said.

"Can I continue?" He gestured at her.

"Yes, please," she accepted.

He kept one hand on her hip, in case she lifted too quickly again, and returned to work, closing his lips around her clit and drawing out a moan from her. She writhed, and he tugged at his own pants.

"Put your fingers—" He caught her meaning. "Mhm." She nodded emphatically as he dipped a single finger into her, just the tip, pressed in a little more, eyes flicking back and forth between the task at hand and her expression. Knuckle-deep and she she let out a soft, "_Yes_," and so another finger joined the first.

"Curl them," she panted.

"What?" He followed the instruction awkwardly, not quite sure what he was trying to achieve, kind of lost in how warm and slick she felt around his digits and trying desperately not to think about how she felt around his—

"There!" she cried.

"What?"

"Fucking hell, Potter, do that again."

He obediently curled his fingers again, feeling a different, rougher spot. She cried out, curling her own fingers in his hair. Her muscles fluttered around his digit.

"Whoa." He moved his fingers in and out, making sure to brush that magic little spot on each pass, circled his thumb around the bud she'd directed him to earlier and kissed her hips, her thighs, every bit of her sweet skin he could get to while he was at it, and then she tensed.

"Don't stop," she ordered. "Don't stop, don't stop." He didn't.

She released a shuddering sigh of relief, relaxing bonelessly in his bed and pillows.

"Did you just—?"

"Yep."

He lay back beside her. "Holy crap."

She stretched, catlike as her back bowed, and then she turned over and pressed a kiss to his bare chest. "That," she said, "was amazing, Potter."

"James," he reminded, licking his fingers clean.

"James," she conceded.

His eyes flicked down to where he was still hard and aching. "I'm going to grab a shower," he said uncomfortably. "You'll...you'll be here when I get back?"

She caught his arm before he could get up. "Hang on," she said. "I can help with that. If you want." She gestured at the tent of his pants.

"You don't—I can just..." He looked at the door, rubbed at the back of his neck.

"Wank?" she asked.

"Not lacking in material," he said.

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you turning me down for your hand?" she asked slowly.

"No," he said quickly. "I just thought...you might be tired...or..."

"Lie down, James."

He nodded. "Okay."

He took off his pants while she grabbed her wand and cast a contraceptive charm, just in case last night's was wearing off. Then she carefully moved to straddle him, lined herself up, and slowly sunk down. It was far more graceful and smooth than his clumsy three attempts from the night before. He groaned. "_Fuck_."

Lily grinned and leaned down to kiss him as she began to move. "That's the plan," she replied.

He laughed, sitting up and scooting them back so he could continue to kiss her. "How does this feel so good?" he asked. "Is this okay for you?"

She smiled, gripping his shoulders for leverage. "Perfect," she said. "But I got mine, so don't hold back on my account."

"Thank Merlin." His head dropped back against the headboard, and her lips found his Adam's apple.

She swivelled her hips.

"Shit. I can't—"

"Then don't."

It didn't take much longer then. He held her hips and helped her move and shortly after, he came hard. She didn't still until she felt he had finished, and then she looped her arms around his neck and rested her cheek on her arm, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck while they both caught their breath, sweaty and messy in the aftermath. He kissed the top of her head, pulled her legs to wrap around his waist.

They were silent awhile. Their chests rising and falling against each other, her breath fanning out warm on his neck, his fingers running up and down her spine, mindlessly twirling her hair, breathing in her scent.

So this is what the afterglow feels like, she thought.

Seconds stretched on like minutes, everything slow and quiet and neither wanting to move.

"So," he whispered.

"How was I?" she teased.

"Fan-fucking-tastic."

"Good to hear." She hesitated. "Maybe we should do this again sometime."

"Yeah?" he asked. "Maybe you won't try to sneak out before dawn next time," he returned.

"Really, James," she said seriously. "Do you think we could...?" She trailed off uncertainly.

"Because you know I can get better at it?" he asked. "Or because...in between you'd let me...hold your hand and...carry your books." His breath tickled the shell of her ear.

She laughed. "I can carry my own books, thanks." She felt him draw back from her slightly, his arms retracting. She pulled him closer. "But," she continued, "I suppose, I could use someone to study with, or...have lunch and snog."

A grin pulled at his lips. His arms snaked around her once more. "Well, I did hear you got an E," he said. "And I'm a brilliant study partner."

Suddenly her recent Es were rather funny. She laughed into his chest and nodded. "Okay, Potter. I'd like that."

He tucked her hair back from her face and kissed her lips lightly. "Thank you," he said.

"Thank _you_," she returned.

"So."

"You can start by getting cleaned up," she said, "and joining me for breakfast."

He smirked as she disentangled herself, and he reached for his pants. "See?" he told her. "Bossy." He caught her arm and gripped her chin to kiss her yet again. "Always telling me what to do."


End file.
